


High Grade Revelations

by gatekat, Starsheild (StarRise)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 01:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarRise/pseuds/Starsheild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl doesn't do parties.  He doesn't do high grade.  So when it happens most mecha are surprised that he's still pretty mellow.  Right up to the point he decides he hasn't gotten laid recently enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Grade Revelations

Prowl sat in his usual corner of the rec room, nursing his single cube of mild high grade that he intended to have last the entire party. As processor ache inducing as understanding where, how and why the various elements of the human celebration had come into play, he could not bring himself to say no to a party centered around celebrating life, peace, friends and family. Especially not with how enthusiastic Optimus was about it.

So Prowl relegated himself to three joors of party, a compromise between the evening on Earth and the evening on Cybertron. He'd won more than he lost on that one too. Christmas would last three joors -- a single local day -- rather than the forty-two joors of a day on Cybertron. He knew well what three joors could do with this crew and at least one mech had to keep their wits.

Jazz had commed him just before the party was scheduled to start to apologize. Out on a goodwill mission among the humans, the event had run over and he was just then leaving. With almost a joor of travel time, and the a few kliks in the wash rack to rinse away the worst of the travel dust, his lover was going to be rather late joining him. It was honestly okay with Prowl. Jazz would still have a chance to be the life of the party and enjoy the down time. Prowl knew all too well he could be a serious impediment to his lover's fun.

He continued to sip his energon, each small mouthful carefully timed so the cube lasted the entire party. His gaze wondered over the party and lingered on several mecha more than it normally did. Mostly his fellow Praxians, primarily Bluestreak, but also Mirage, First Aid and Fireflight. Pretty mechs built lighter than himself.

Each was acting perfectly normal. Bluestreak was talking the audio off the unfortunate mecha that he had managed to corner, going on about all of the research he had done on the human myths surrounding Saint Nick and how even though it was surely impossible for such a person to exist it was such an interesting story. And reindeer! He wanted to meet a reindeer now. Maybe even bring one home as pet if he could find one nice enough.

Mirage was doing a very good imitation of pretending he was not there without actually being invisible at the moment, and Prowl really expected nothing less. While the noble would willingly admit that he enjoyed a good party, his definition of a good party and what the crew of the Ark tended to throw were two very different things.

As for Fireflight, he was being kept well in check, and well away from the more aggressive members of the crew, by his brothers. By the time Prowl's optics left Optimus's aft, it registered that his cube was half finished and he could no longer recall why he was so determined not to enjoy himself. A larger gulp went down, then the rest of the cube as his gaze went back around the room and soon settled on Mirage again.

He was standing, steady on his pedes but decidedly not thinking clearly and moved to corner the noble.

A gentle touch on his arm, and then a warm frame and a familiar field against his back interrupted whatever his intent had been as Jazz's arms slipped around his frame from behind.

"Sorry I'm late." His lover purred softly. "Make it up to you after the party? Take you nice and slow, like you like?"

Prowl felt his vents hitch and his engine growled with a tone that drew more than a little attention as he turned in Jazz's embrace to grab his face between both hands and claim the mouth he enjoyed so much in a commanding, demanding kiss like nothing they'd shared before. Arousal flared hot and bright from Prowl to swirl around Jazz in a blanket of raw lust.

Surprise rippled through the mech in his arms at this new development. It left Jazz slightly dazed for a moment when the kiss came to an end, staring into his lover's bright optics. "Or not wait?" He finally managed, leaning into the lust and desire, his field containing a hint of question.

This was not the Prowl he knew, or at least not one that he had seen before. But it looked like his lover. Felt like his lover. Everything was right except for the raging lust that he had never felt from Prowl before.

"No need to wait," Prowl rumbled as he turned Jazz around and stepped him the three paces to back him against the wall. Then he was kissing again, unconcerned by the audience or the shock that was locking everyone in place. He had his lover here and he wanted that tight, hot valve he knew was between Jazz's legs.

::Here, lover?:: Jazz prodded over a comm line as his lips locked with Prowl's once more. ::Not objecting, but...::

Jazz had nothing against being an exhibitionist. It was a rush that he hadn't had since long before they left Cybertron. But it was not something that he, in his wildest fantasies, had ever imagined Prowl indulging in. His lover was smart, sweet, and wonderful. Qualities that few mecha were allowed to see beneath the stiff exterior. The stiff, rule-abiding exterior. And such a public display of affection was definitely against the rules that Prowl so rigidly enforced.

::Want you _now_.:: Prowl's hand snaked between them to grope Jazz's valve cover, the touch rougher than anything Prowl had done to Jazz before as a knee got between Jazz's legs to spread them. The powerful pursuit engine roared with lust. ::Hot, tight, feels so good.::

Another teek, actually listening to what Prowl was saying, and suddenly everything started to fall into place. This was not his normal Prowl. It was Prowl, no doubt, but this was Prowl under the influence of more high grade than Jazz had ever seen him consume.

It left the smaller mech in a dilemma, even as his lips met Prowl's in another kiss and his hips pressed into the groping hand.

Jazz wanted this, but would Prowl forgive him in the morning?

Prowl's fingers became insistent, a scrape against sensitive metal. The click of Prowl's spike cover as it slid open sharpened the importance of the moment. "Open lover," Prowl growled, shocking those around them even more.

With a moan Jazz obeyed, the cover giving way to the instant touches of his lover, the scrape the factor that pushed him over the edge. Even overcharged, he couldn't tell his lover no. Not when Prowl wanted something like this. He barely had time to process that the hand had moved away before his rarely-used valve was spread wide by a thick, long, heavily textured spike he abruptly realized he'd never seen. A smooth underside only added to the pleasure of the ribs along the top and sides and the rounded, thicker base rubbed so many more platelets and sensors than most spikes could. Just feeling it he knew it was custom, and expensive. Something from well before the war.

Prowl leaned into him and grabbed a knee to bring it up, angling Jazz open for the hard, driving pace that Prowl set. Each powerful thrust came with a grunt, a near-mindless pursuit of pleasure that came with intense need.

A startled gasp was pulled from Jazz with that initial thrust and feel, and with it came so many questions about his lover. Prowl had never offered much about his past, and the mech was so private that Jazz had never really bothered to dig beyond the public surface. Especially once they were on Earth.

But now...each thrust dragged a moan of pleasure from him and chased the questions away. His helm fell back, hands grabbing on to Prowl's shoulders seeking stability. This felt so good, so amazing. Prowl was magnificent. Jazz willingly surrendered, his frame going loosely compliant even as he squeezed and rippled his valve around the thick intruder.

It took less than two kliks for energy to begin dancing under Prowl's armor and not much past that the pace shifted. More of a jerking thrust than the smooth movements of before. Still Jazz moved with each motion that he could track as he gave up trying to process what was going on and just let his frame feel. This was his lover, and his lover was bringing him pleasure.

The rest could be sorted out in the morning.

With a rumbling bellow so very unlike the soft moaning keen he rewarded Jazz with, Prowl overloaded with a harder, deep thrust that pressed the end of his spike right against the thick nest of sensors at the top of Jazz's valve just in time for the first burst of crackling transfluid to rush into them. The bulb at the base of the spike was forced inside Jazz's valve, locking them together as Prowl continued to rock, grinding them together as burst after burst of thick transfluid exploded across Jazz's deepest sensors.

Jazz had no chance against the onslaught of pleasure, his shout of surprise and bliss a match for his lover's as the energy overtook him and his valve clamped down on that wonderful spike and awareness disappeared in white blaze of static.

Amazing. So very amazing. And his.

The thoughts kept circling in his processor as he started to regain consciousness to the sensation of the large bulb at the base of the spike pulling at the inside of the rim until it came out with a distinctive plop.

"On your knees," Prowl rumbled, pure demand as he turned them around so he could rest against the wall and watch the crew gape at them.

Jazz sank to his knees with a groan, attention locked on the large spike already hard quivering before him. It was magnificent, perfect, and Jazz wasn't sure that he was going to be able to do it justice.

But he was certainly willing to try.

Prowl's hands were on his helm, the field still aggressive and full of lust but the touch just a bit more gentle than before, though no less commanding. Prowl didn't wait for Jazz to try to lick or entice before pressing the thick, rounded tip against Jazz's lip plates. He wanted into that mouth and intake and he wanted in now.

Jazz's lips parted willingly, sliding over the tip and caressing each ridge as his glossa slid along the smooth underside. The rich taste of transfluid and lubricant made him moan, the vibration transferring to the length in his mouth.

"Yes, good pet," Prowl moaned, momentarily willing to let Jazz set the pace. "Lick me clean and suck me dry."

Behind him, Jazz heard several mechs choke and more than a few engines rev. Not that he could blame the revving in the least. Prowl was impressive, but they'd all lost their chance. Only Jazz had been willing to see the wonderful mech behind the stiff persona and now everyone knew just what Jazz was getting for his effort. Not that he had ever gotten _this_ before, but Primus...With another moan Jazz's hands came up to rest on Prowl's hips, visor growing dim as he concentrated on the feel and taste of his lover, and slowly working that spike deeper.

The lust rolling off of Prowl touched something deeper in him as well. Part of his processor knew that it was the high grade talking and was deeply worried that Prowl was going to reject him after this.

But as his lips reached the thick base, another part insisted that this alone was worth everything. What it really came down to though was that Prowl, powerful, force of nature Prowl, wanted this and Jazz couldn't say no. Had no desire to say no.

It was amazing to run his glossa along and around the spike that had just brought his valve so much pleasure it still ached, wanting the thickness in it again. He wanted to do this more often, and now that he wasn't overloading on bliss, he wondered why Prowl had never shown his spike in all the vorns they'd shared a berth after investing so much in a high-quality custom piece like this. It couldn't have been serious if all of Jazz's digging had never turned it up. Though it hadn't turned up this lovely upgrade either.

Above him Prowl moaned and panted, and soon began to thrust as he held Jazz's helm in place. Jazz moaned as well, hands gripping harder in an attempt to steady himself as he licked and sucked at the spike, the ridged texture so unique it made him shiver at the feel and the memories of it in his valve. 

A hum of pleasure started in him, traveling through his entire frame as he surrendered to his lover. Prowl's pleasure was bliss to Jazz, and this was sweeter than he could have ever imagined. Even when Prowl's grip tightened and the thrusts became forceful, taking all control from Jazz as Prowl _took_ when he wanted, Jazz continued to hum and relax into the motions. This was rough for Prowl, rougher than Jazz had dealt with in a long time, but it wasn't the rough of intending to hurt him and that made all the difference.

The first zaps of charge from Prowl's spike into his intake warned him that it was almost over. With a purr Jazz sucked and stroked, intake tightening around the thick tip, eager to taste more of his lover.

Prowl grunted and thrust, his armor flared to vent excess heat as the lightshow under it pick up with his building overload. With a shudder and roar he arched his hips forward, his fingers tight on Jazz's helm to hold him tightly and pumped the first burst of many into his lover's intake.

With his mouth so thoroughly and delightfully occupied Jazz couldn't manage a verbal response, but the blissful flare of his field as he swallowed each charged burst of fluid was unmistakable.

His visor was completely dark as he shivered in his lover's hold, reveling in Prowl's pleasure and in the taste of his mate. He offered a sturdy support when Prowl sagged forward to recover and licked his lover clean as best he could when Prowl began to withdraw.

Suddenly Jazz found himself pulled to his pedes and towards the door, still very firmly in Prowl's grip, though the hand had moved to his arm. It was all he could do to offer the gathered mecha a cheerful and rather smug wave, the stunned expressions captured in his processor to review later as they exited the room.

"More lover?" He asked, dancing forward in Prowl's grasp and managing to plant a kiss on the side of the Praxian's helm.

"Much more," Prowl promised, turning his helm to claim a heated kiss. "Going to wear myself out fully."

"And me too?" Jazz asked, optics bright as his field teased at Prowl. The question seemed to make something click in Prowl's processors, but not enough to stop their movement.

"As if you'd outlast me," Prowl grinned, a feral, prideful look and teek.

"Try me." Jazz purred, all eager challenge as they reached their quarters.

"Try you, use you, fill you until you can't move," Prowl promised as he pulled Jazz inside, then pushed him chest first onto the berth and climbed on behind him to drive into his still-bared valve with a smooth, deep thrust.

Jazz howled, frame arching as his valve was filled once more, the stretch a sort of pleasure-pain that told him he was going to feel it in the morning, but was so absolutely wonderful in the moment.

"More." He begged, getting his elbows under him in an attempt to find leverage that would let him push back onto that spike. "All you have. I can take it, and more."

The words were enough to drive Prowl to give up what little self-control he'd kept a grip on and he pounded into the mech under him ruthlessly, the bulb at the base of his spike pressed in and pulled out with each slamming thrust and denting withdrawal. His fingers gouged into Jazz's hips, flexing and digging in as the pleasure built once more.

The keens and cries of the mech in his grasp only encouraged him, the field of his lover teeking of desire and pleasure.

Jazz dug his fingers into the berth in a vain attempt to be still, most of his attention focused on the multiplying pleasure from his valve and the desire to feel the spike deep in him and the rush of charged transfluid that could push him into oblivion when Prowl let go. It was incredible. He couldn't even begin to care that he'd be walking funny for a couple orns. It was a price well worth paying.

Above him Prowl roared and slammed his hips forward _hard_ , driving his spike all the way in, the housing rubbing along the inside rim of Jazz's valve as he overloaded, grinding himself against his lover's array with each burst of transfluid that pushed deep into Jazz's valve.

Jazz lost himself after the first rush, completely unaware of anything but the pleasure literally blinding him as it overtook all of his senses, stunning his systems once more. It left him only distantly aware of his next two overloads, though the fact that Prowl wasn't finished and _didn't_ stop did manage to resister a bit more. That wasn't much in normal character, but then, all of this was focused on Prowl getting himself off.

It was an effort, but Jazz managed to remain at least somewhat cognizant until Prowl finally sank down, mostly on top of him, his spike's base bulb lodged in Jazz's valve.

Jazz shifted slightly, feeling Prowl move with him, they were still locked together, and settled down with his lover on top of him.

It was odd, so very odd, having Prowl like this. But what little part of his processor was still decided he liked it. It felt warm, safe and secure in a way Jazz had not felt in a long time. He lingered on that as his processor and frame shut down into the recharge both were demanding.

* * *

Booting up the next morning took a while, and only the note Jazz didn't remember writing to himself to not panic as it did kept him calm until all of his memories came back online.

The soreness of his valve and the stretch of the spike still locked there made him groan, but memories of the pleasure drowned out the current discomfort, reminding him of how worth the price this was.

Soreness was nothing compared to that pleasure. And if he could convince Prowl to do this again. And again...the soreness would become a forgotten factor.

When Prowl got his dom on, the mech was _amazing_. Not that being with him was ever less than good, Prowl was a thoughtful berthmate every time, but this ... it fed something Jazz had all but forgotten he loved. He held still as his lover booted, long used to the breem boot time when it wasn't a combat boot. A breem and a half into the sluggish boot and Prowl's field hit Jazz with the Praxian's panic, horror and guilt. In the same moment that special spike depressurized and retracted fast enough it had to have been painful for its owner.

The sudden emptiness made Jazz a little sorry to see the spike go. "Lover?" He asked, twisting him helm a little to try and look at Prowl as his field reached out, trying to process Prowl's odd reaction.

"Overcharged. I ... Oh Primus, I hurt you," frantic white hands were suddenly moving over Jazz's frame, seeming to know where to feel for the dents and scrapes. "I swore I'd never let this happen again. You'll need a medic...." Prowl's babble was quickly jacked into panic-mode, a state that was even stranger looking on him than lust.

"Don't need a medic love." Jazz argued, rolling over slowly and reaching to try and pull Prowl down for a kiss. "Sore, not _hurt_. You were amazing."

"I was overcharged. I know what I get like," Prowl resisted the reassurance with a groan. "Red Alert probably had a complete meltdown." Fingers moved over the dents he'd left. "I did hurt you." He suddenly twitched. "I don't think I want to know if you're into pain. You couldn't have been ready."

"Sore." Jazz repeated, not lying and trying to make it clear that he was telling his lover the truth as he tugged at Prowl again, his field an open pool of warmth and welcome. "The rest of it is just cosmetic."

He paused as the memory of the rec room surfaced, and couldn't help but smile. "Though since everyone else looked like they were on the verge of having a processor crash when you took me at the party last night, your estimate of Red Alert's reaction is highly possible."

Prowl's jaw dropped open and stayed there. "I ... oh _Primus_." He twitched again, looking very much on the verge of a crash himself, though it had distracted him from the guilt. He buried his face against the nearest surface, Jazz's side, and cringed. "I'm never going to get to leave this time behind."

Jazz wrapped his arms around his lover, trying to sort out the emotional roller coaster that Prowl was on. The reaction was so different from what he was used to he was having to try and adapt rather quickly.

"It will fade. Everything does." Jazz tried to soothe him. "Though I would rather not forget it."

Prowl shuddered but accepted Jazz's words when his own processor was refusing to do more than chase itself in circles. It was hard to think, but he focused on the point that seemed most important. "Why not? I ... I _took_ you in public, left dents, never took any care for your ... anything. Didn't even think to ask, or check if you were ready."

"Lover." Jazz purred, though the word contained a deep emphasis of affection and feeling for the mech in his arms. "I was surprised, but I _enjoyed_ every klik of it. I never tried to stop you."

He moved in to kiss Prowl, the motion and touch tender reflection of the emotion in his field. "If you can remember at all, I encouraged and egged you on every step of the way, so I am just as responsible for the final result as you are."

Prowl's doorwings twitched again, then his armor, as he stared down at the mech that was breaking every rule Prowl had about interfacing. It was Jazz. Breaking rules was what Jazz did. So instead of crashing, he twitched and filed it under 'Jazz is weird' and let it stand on its own. "I don't remember anything when I'm overcharged," he said quietly. "Only what I've been shown afterwards. I ... cared for your pleasure?"

"You were rather focused on your own." Jazz admitted. "But you did not hurt me, and you never intended too. That much I _know_." He emphasized.

"Just didn't care if you enjoyed it or not," Prowl shivered, sickened by the truth of it. "It's not right."

"I did enjoy it love." Jazz sighed, stroking Prowl's wings gently. "What did happen last night? I know it's not like you to get overcharged."

Prowl reviewed his memories leading up to the corrupted files starting with when he first picked up his singular cube of high grade, fully intending into have it last the entire party and have enough left over to enjoy after interfacing normally afterwards. This time he focused on his energy readings after each sip. It wasn't perfect, the calculations were done best by parts of his systems that were still refusing to on-line, but a quarter of the way through the cube with files already becoming somewhat corrupted there was only one possible reason.

"It must have been spiked with something," Prowl scowled. "The energy readings indicate I was drinking something at least three times more potent then I was expecting." His field flickered in the core-deep sickness that was working towards fury. "If you hadn't arrived when you did ... you didn't pull me off anyone, did you?" he looked down with too-bright optics. "I wouldn't have cared who I took."

"You looked like you were focused on something when I got there, but I interrupted whatever you were planning." Jazz hummed, looking over things in his processor. "I grabbed you from behind and suggested I would make things up to you later for being late. You were just not interested in waiting."

"I wouldn't have been," Prowl shivered. "Glad you did, and were willing."

"Always for you." Jazz said, relaxing some. His helm tilted at an angle as he studied his lover curiously. "Why have you never let me see your spike?"

Prowl startled, jolted right out of his thoughts by the question. "Umm, some bad associations, and you never demanded. It's just easier for everyone when I stick to my valve."

"Of course I never demanded lover. You never seemed interested." Jazz replied, still rubbing Prowl's frame gently. He hesitated, then asked softly. "Will you tell me what happened?"

Prowl huffed, hesitated, but gradually sank into the comfort of having his doorwings stroked. "I hurt my second lover badly enough she needed repairs. The only reason I wasn't charged was because it was at the club and there were enough witnesses willing to testify that she never said no. And maybe because of my age. Another time I did much the same, though she was very much willing, and it was in her home. She still needed to see a medic when I was done."

"Same lover? And you were overcharged both times?" Jazz asked, trying to piece it all together.

"No, and yes," Prowl murmured, only barely audible. It was humiliating for him, a reminder that he was only a good Enforcer, a good _mech_ so long as he remained sober.

Jazz nuzzled him. "I am no delicate femme lover."

Prowl huffed a laugh. "No, not even femmes are delicate anymore. You aren't delicate, but I'm much stronger than I was then too."

Jazz was quiet as he considered his next question, trying to gauge his lover without pushing to hard at these new revelations and possibly pushing Prowl away in the process. "Have you ever wanted to dominate without the high grade?" 

Prowl shuddered but nodded. "I just can't tell when to stop with it. Can't remember what happened with it."

"I very much enjoyed your spike in my valve. It is very unique." Jazz praised, a small shiver running through his frame. He reached up to cup Prowl's face, drawing him down for a kiss. "Maybe we can try it again some time? Without the highgrade?"

"I ... don't know," Prowl shuddered, memories of the long gone and no longer relevant past still haunting him.

"As you wish, lover." Jazz said, drawing Prowl close and holding him. It was a relief to feel him beginning to genuinely calm down. Prowl and panic were not a healthy mix in any context. In a personal context it felt far worse to be near.

"You're sure you weren't damaged?" Prowl murmured, his fingers sliding gently over Jazz's hips. "Those don't feel that minor."

"I've given myself worse with a bad dance step and fall." Jazz assured him, fingers following Prowl's to try and prove to the other that Jazz really had assessed the damage and knew what he was saying. "Self repair will have them right in an orn or so, since this would fall under Ratchet's classification of 'personal non-spark threatening stupidity'."

"He wouldn't repair it anyway," Prowl accepted that truth. "Your valve?" He couldn't bring himself to touch and find out. "I know I ... my spike can rip things. It's big."

"Sore but not damaged. I haven't been stretched like that in...I don't remember when." Jazz said, purring softly at the remembered pleasure. "You have a very nice spike. Must have been expensive?"

"It was a different world back then," Prowl managed to segregate the negative experiences from his history in general. "As a mechling with a job and a creator-triad that each earned a good income, I had significant free time and spare credits. I was good looking enough to draw attention for that as well. That design was the thing to have if you could afford it, right along with a powerful racing alt. I had both, and used them rather shamelessly."

There were several kliks of silence as Jazz processed that, trying to imagine a Prowl as the mech described himself, and trying to process just how old the mech in his arms was based on the information.

"I was a mechling once," Prowl sounded almost amused at his lover's surprise. "It's been a long time, but I still remember what it was like."

"Once." Jazz repeated, lying back on the berth to look at Prowl better. "And how long ago was 'once'?"

"The early Golden Age," Prowl replied, almost indifferent to the statement.

Another ripple in Jazz's field, this one of true shock. Some of it was at the fact that Prowl was still functioning when so many of his generation had long returned to Well. Most of it though was at the idea that someone from that era would want anything to do with a mecha like him.

"I'm not _that_ old!" Prowl scolded him rather playfully. "I'm no Kup."

Jazz had to laugh at that, relaxing more on the berth and reaching up to tweak the broad chevron that graced his lover's helm. "A fact I'm very thankful for. But...why me?"

"Mostly the fact that you're completely indifferent to my rank, willing to argue for what you believe in against my facts and you're attractive for a non-Praxian frame," Prowl told him, all of which were things he'd said before at one point or another. "I'd been alone for a long time when you made your effort. I'm honestly not that fond of being alone."

"At least my efforts were enough to get your attention. And hold it." Jazz smiled, accepting and teasing as he lifted his helm for another kiss, this one more sure than the last. It was returned softly, sweetly in a much more Prowl-like manner.

* * *

There was a small skip to Jazz's step as he made his way back to the quarters he shared with Prowl. He recon mission had gone well. He had escaped unscathed, with the requested intel plus more, and with the Decepticons none the wiser.

Cleaned up, medically cleared, caught up on the gossip and fueled, he was looking forward to an evening with his lover. It was always a good evening when missions went this well, even if Prowl rarely stayed in the berth long. The call of fresh intel was not one he could ignore for long. But for a joor or two at least, Prowl would be all his.

A tiny shiver passed through Jazz's armor at the thought. Prowl was _his_. Okay, so he had no illusions on the grand scheme of things that this was a forever union or they were in fairytale love. The fact remained that Prowl, who could arguably have his choice of berthwarmers and gotten a far less assertive one than Jazz, had _chosen_ to be with Jazz, and it wasn't a weekend fling either. They were vorns into this ... whatever they were. Lovers was a term of convenience, but it wasn't all that accurate.

Jazz hummed as he turned that over a few times. It wasn't accurate, yet Prowl, who could be the Pit demon's own master when it came to accuracy, didn't correct him. He allowed him his terminology, and even reciprocated on occasion, making it all the more interesting. With a shrug Jazz filed the thought away for later consideration and transmitted the code to his quarters. The door slid open to a room with full lighting and Prowl's frame lounging on the berth, back up, doorwings spread, reading something on a datapad. The rest of the sweep registered Prowl's polishing kit on the nightstand, something that only came out when Jazz asked, Prowl was feeling exceptionally needy, or to reward Jazz.

"So that is to be my reward tonight lover?" Jazz purred as he crossed the room to the berth, crawling on it and stretching up to claim a kiss from Prowl.

"Mmm, unless you'd rather have something else," Prowl said agreeably. "You did very well."

Jazz nuzzled him, field quietly hopeful. "I would love to feel your spike again."

Prowl tensed, turning his helm to look at Jazz with all the discomfort the idea brought written on his features as he worked on the answer. He'd never actually told Jazz no before. Not in the berth at least.

Jazz waited quietly, not pushing, before he reached out to stroke a wing. "Or I can polish your wings, and enjoy every moan and sound that you only make for me now."

The doorwing pushed into the touch and Prowl made a soft hum as he relaxed. "I'd like that more."

"Datapad away." Jazz requested and was immediately obeyed. Prowl's entire frame relaxed, compliant and very willing, his field humming with anticipated pleasure and trust as Jazz reached for the polish. He was already planning his route for the getting the best reaction from his lover. By now he could play those doorwings like an instrument and he knew exactly how much Prowl enjoyed it.

With the first swipe Jazz started to relax himself, the tension always left over melting away as his lover melted under him. There was something undeniably soothing at having someone with such high standards be so willingly compliant and pleased to relax under his hands, and the _sounds_ Prowl made were nothing short of intoxicating. Interfacing was good, but this got the most amazing sounds. It occasionally made Jazz giddy to think that he might well be the only one alive to have such sounds directed at him.

The rhythm he fell into was soothing and steadying, a pattern that he had learned and perfected over the vorns. A simple cleaning. The smoothing warm of the wax in his hands. The gentle buffing that followed and brought the entire work to a perfect shine, an indication of an optic for detail and the work of someone who truly cared about either their art or the mecha they were performing it on.

By the time Jazz was satisfied, Prowl was completely limp under him, radiating pleasured contentment that not even a good overload brought.

"You are very good at that," Prowl murmured, his optics off and engine purring softly.

"I had a very patient teacher. One I wanted to please." Jazz replied as he put the polish kit away, his field full of the pride lacking in the words.

"It shows in your work," Prowl fluttered his doorwings lightly, a reminder that the next morning everyone, even the Decepticons, would know that Prowl's lover had polished him the previous night, and they all knew who that lover was. It was a visible mark of Jazz's status to Prowl that the Praxian would wear Jazz's efforts beyond the berthroom, and did so proudly. "Now," he rolled over and drew Jazz on top of him for a lingering kiss. "How else may I reward your efforts?"

"Let me please you some more. A nice 'face, then recharge until you have to go?" Jazz suggested between soft kisses.

The interface would finish relaxing him, settling his energy levels for the long recharge he was entitled too after his mission. And falling into that recharge in Prowl's arms was a security and safety that Jazz refused to admit to the outside meant so very much to him. The Praxian would not spend the whole cycle with him, Jazz was sure. But even the little bit of contact was enough.

"I would enjoy that," Prowl purred into another kiss as he spread his legs and bared his valve. "You are amazing in the berth."

"So are you." Jazz said, stealing another kiss as he reached down, fingers teasing at the valve platelets and rim. Even in this he prided himself in his ability to sometimes get Prowl to relax and enjoy. Not that Prowl didn't overload, willingly and readily, but there was something Jazz had felt now and then that went past the purely carnal enjoyment and into something exquisite.

With a moan Prowl rolled his hips into the touch, the light slickness there enough for a spike to slide smoothly, but Jazz knew that Prowl could get _much_ more slick. It just took a bit of effort, as if making Prowl moan and his field flare with bliss would ever be _effort_.

The teasing fingers dripped past the rim, rubbing and seeking the sensor nodes buried there, Prowl's valve as perfect as the spike Jazz had only seen once. A shiver ran through him at the memory, his own valve starting to lubricate as his spike covered snapped back. Under him and against him, Prowl moaned more deeply and began to rock into the fingers teasing his valve.

Jazz's other hand rose to brush along the chevron framing his lover's face as he stole another kiss, willingly deepening it when Prowl opened his mouth in invitation. Usually those wonderfully expressive doorwings were one of his favorite methods of warming Prowl up, but after all the work of the polish and the pride of others seeing it there was no way Jazz was going to mar the finish when Prowl was so responsive. Prowl's near leg pressed against Jazz while his far one curled up and out until the knee joint was nearly even with Prowl's hip and as high as Jazz's helm.

Already Prowl was growing slicker and his engine was revving. This was that wonderful moment when relaxed Prowl became _aroused_ and wasn't restraining it.

"Want to feel you inside me," Prowl panted, unashamed of his desires or voicing them.

"As you wish, lover." Jazz purred, shifting to slide his spike into the welcoming valve. Long practice had the motion as smooth as anything, but Jazz still shuddered every time he entered that perfect, slick heat. It was exquisite. Prowl was like no other that had ever been with, and Jazz had long ago given up trying to pin down whatever factor made the difference. He just accepted.

Under him Prowl rocked with each thrust, matching Jazz's movements flawlessly. His hands ran along Jazz's frame, playing with hot spots as he claimed kiss after kiss. As relaxed as he was, Prowl gave himself fully to the pleasure building in him and the enjoyment of interfacing.

It felt _good_ , at the top of a pitifully short list of such things he could still do with any level of impunity. Each sliding, filling stroke drew another cry from him, from moans to keens to even trembling sobs of bliss as all the worries, concerns and responsibilities of being the Second in Command of an army in the middle of a desperate war were stripped away piece by piece until what was left was a mech not so different from the youth that had invested in the parts being used.

The mech whose field and frame were twined with his found a different but just as important form of release. Under the exterior that was presented to the outside world was a mecha that craved a point of stability and safety, things that Prowl provided just by existing and that Jazz drank in at every available opportunity.

They continued to move together, the pleasure building until Prowl keened, his frame locked and crackling with energy, all except for his valve, which began to ripple and squeeze in a pre-programmed pattern designed over the vorns to enhance Jazz's pleasure the most. It rarely took long of that to send his lover over the edge as well, not matter how long Jazz tried to hold on and draw out Prowl's pleasure as long as he could. There were times, when he needed this most, that he could make it last, but they were few and far between.

With a cry of shattering pleasure Jazz lost himself in the bliss, shaking and crackling until he collapsed on top of his lover and willingly sank into recharge with him.

* * *

Prowl stepped into his quarters after one of far too many shifts all but in a row. He hadn't found time to do more than gulp down his energon in three orns, and though he had worked far, far longer joors before, it had not been in several vorns and he was _tired_. Not so much from the work as from not having any time to relax. He missed having down time with Jazz. At least sometimes, when the mech wasn't trying to introduce him to the variety of music and culture of Earth.

And that was where his thoughts froze.

Jazz was on their berth, spread out, his legs wide, seemingly trying to get his entire hand into his valve. It was enough to make Prowl twitch in all the wrong ways, and a few that were decidedly heating up.

It had been such a very long time since he remembered sinking into a valve, but he did remember it vividly.

"Lover...Prowl." Jazz moaned, then twitched and froze, hand half buried, as he focused on the Praxian and those white-bright optics fixated on him. "Prowl..."

"I did not realize I had been that neglectful of you," Prowl managed to stammer. "You should have sought someone out if I am not here enough."

Jazz pulled his hand out and curled in on himself, ashamed at having been caught and not quite able to meet Prowl's optics. "You aren't. It's just...what I want...not your problem." Jazz mumbled.

"You want someone willing to use their spike," he didn't really need to guess as he stepped into the room fully, then walked to the berth and sat down. "You know I don't mind. I've never tried to claim exclusive rights."

"I know." But the truth of the matter was, since Prowl had started sharing a berth with him, Jazz hadn't interfaced with anyone outside of a mission assignment. And even then those had been un-fulfilling, except for when he succeeded in getting the intel he was after. And it was not for a lack of willing partners, at least in the beginning.

Jazz had a well-earned reputation for being good in the berth. Skill and a desire to have his partner pleased and sated as well had been the well spread word.

And the little part of this that he still had not admitted that it wasn't just any spike he craved. He had never felt a spike quite like Prowl's before. And ever since that one time, he had wanted to feel it again, with his lover in control of his actions. Wanting Jazz, wanting to dominate and take Jazz. And that was why Jazz considered it only a fantasy.

"But you have not. Why?" Prowl asked, his voice and field both surprisingly gentle. "I know it is not for lack of choices, even among this small crew."

"I don't want _a_ spike." Jazz admitted, afraid that his might finally be the wedge that drove them apart. "I want _your_ spike. Others...aren't that same."

And he wouldn't do that to Prowl anyway. The rumors and things that would start to fly if he went in search of others to take care of his wants.

Instead of a wedge he felt Prowl's hand caress his cheek. His field teeked of sadness, regret, only to flicker towards the kind of determination that usually resulted in the Decepticons licking their wounds for months. "No, they likely aren't," he murmured, still refusing to think of it in anything short of physical terms. "If you'll be in control, I believe I can keep it pressurized."

Jazz leaned into the touch, finally looking at Prowl and his field reaching out to wrap around the other mech. It held hope and acceptance, but also an undercurrent of stubbornness. "I don't want you doing this _just_ for me. That's not right."

"You can't tell me you've never done something just to indulge me, because I desired it," Prowl countered calmly.

Jazz smiled a little, not going to argue that point as leaned into the field a little more. "I have." He agreed softly. "But it made me _happy_ to make you feel good like that."

"Am I not allowed to indulge you because I wish to?" Prowl said softly, his thumb stroking Jazz's cheek. "If it makes you feel better, you may trade favors by polishing my doorwings."

"I love polishing your doorwings." Jazz smiled. "That you may have any time you desire. Maybe-a compromise?"

"I am listening," Prowl said smoothly, his hand moving up the side of Jazz's helm to caress the stubby sensor horn.

Instead of answering directly Jazz stretched up for a kiss, soft but full of the desire he felt as he drew Prowl down on the berth.

Once the Praxian was comfortably arranged on his back Jazz continued his attentions, kissing and stroking his way down the frame he knew so well until his lips found the spike cover.

It slid open despite the tension that rippled across Prowl's frame. Barely a degree of extra warmth greeted Jazz's kiss to the housing, a larger than normal soft rubber spiral to protect the sensitive equipment from dust and particles. He could feel much more warmth coming from below despite the valve cover remaining closed. Another gentle kiss and the teasing swipe of a glossa greeting the initial reaction. Jazz's field flared out in bright desire and eager excitement to wash over Prowl.

"Let me pleasure you?" Jazz asked, wanting as he looked up at Prowl, shivering at the sight of other spread on the berth before him, hands gripping the sturdy berth frame.

"That ... might be asking more than I can give," Prowl murmured reluctantly.

"You won't hurt me." Jazz promised him, hands rubbing soothing circles on Prowls thighs. "Don't have to if you don't want to though."

His entire frame and all of his field radiated how much he wanted this. Wanted Prowl's spike any way he could get it, even as his valve rippled and clenched in protest at the idea of going empty and unfilled once more.

"I'm willing, but don't worry about my pleasure. Just ride my spike," Prowl suggested. 

Jazz vented softly, reluctant, before he nodded and lowed his helm. A skilled glossa ran over the protective barrier once more, warm and teasing as it asked the hidden spike to come out and play. It spiraled open immediately and the tip of the spike, large and steeply slopped with a rounded tip, began to slide out. A warm mouth was there to welcome it, the same glossa caressing the smooth underside as Jazz hummed in pleasure, allowing his processor to wander just a little. Recalling the last time he had tasted his lover, and the pleasure from being filled.

Prowl's field offered encouragement, an apology for what he could not do, even as he moaned softly at the attention. It didn't take long before his optics dimmed and his spike locked into place. This time Jazz got to witness the swelling of the bulbous base and thickening of the ruffles along the top and sides into the magnificent spike he remembered.

"You taste so good. Feel so good." Jazz murmured softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of the spike as his hands played over it, feeling every inch of the wonderful texture and drinking in every tiny tingle of pleasure he could feel from his lover. It wasn't much, but at least he now knew Prowl could feel it.

He moved up Prowl's frame, leaning in to kiss his lover and found it returned with all the usual passion he'd long come to expect. "I want you, so much. Chased you because you were interesting, a challenge."

He shifted into position above his lover, reaching back to guide the thick spike into his valve, and moaning with the first initial stretch.

"Stay because I want to."

Because he wanted to, and because he needed to. Wanted and needed Prowl more than was still safe to admit.

It was a relief, too much relief, when Jazz felt the physical pleasure behind Prowl's moan and the slight roll of the Praxian's hips to rub the bulbous base against Jazz's platelets.

"Yes." Jazz shivered, his field full of encouragement as his valve rippled around the spike. The motion alone sent small waves of pleasure through his frame.

Slowly, savoring every bit of pleasure, Jazz rose up and lowered around the spike again. Every ruffle, the stretch of being almost too full. It pulled a groan from him as he stopped and rubbed against the base.

Prowl's optics were bright now, watching Jazz ride his spike and the pleasure rolling off the other mech in intense waves that brought more than one moan from him. The pleasure of such a tight valve around his spike was intense as well, but the hack he'd long ago written kept him well enough in check. He felt it, it felt good, but there wouldn't be the kind of feedback loop that could result in an overload. It meant he could enjoy watching his lover get off to the very end and he could remain in control. He knew on a purely intellectual level that he'd overreacted in his youth, but until tonight the mecha he'd been with had always been very content that he enjoyed his valve and mouth so much. It was inevitable that Jazz would eventually want more than their usual. It was beyond astronomical the odds he'd beaten that it had taken this long. Long enough that Prowl didn't want to move on when his lover's desire became persistent.

He already knew how this would play out. He'd calculated it long before. Within the vorn he'd break the hack and his previous inclinations for interfacing would resurface. For the moment though, his lover was incredibly pleased, Jazz's pleasure as he rode the spike washing through their mingled fields in growing waves of pleasure, each rise and fall driving it higher than the previous.

Jazz's groaning moans gave way to gasps every time Prowl's hips thrust up to meet him. He arched and flared his armor, making a fine display of himself for the lover that might not overload with him but could at least enjoy the show.

As Jazz's pleasure continued to rise, Prowl's grip on the berth tightened. He could feel the commands stirring, trying to be forwarded, but he ruthlessly stamped them down. He wasn't ready yet. Not for that. Not to _take_ again. At least overcharged he had something of an excuse.

Not that Jazz was doing anything to make it easier for him, pent up desire driving the other wild as it was finally released and fulfilled. Energy crackled over his frame as his movements shifted into something far more uncoordinated and forceful as he dropped down on to his lover. It was too much for Prowl to resist unrestrained and he wrapped both arms around Jazz and rolled his hips into each movement the other made.

"Let go, beautiful," Prowl whispered. "Let me watch you overload."

With a keen Jazz fell, surrendering to the bliss that filled every inch of his frame and his lover's command. "Prowl!"

"You will be the end of me, beautiful," Prowl's murmur was lost to Jazz in the grip of a powerful overload that Prowl only drove higher and longer as he continued to thrust until Jazz collapsed completely on top of him, trembling and gasping with tiny aftershocks.

There was a stretch of time that Jazz wouldn't be able to place later as his frame recovered from the demands that had been placed on it.

"Prowl?" The soft murmur was full of wonder and layered with the bliss of a pleasure fogged processor when Jazz finally started to come around once more.

"I am here," the smooth voice responded.

Jazz shifted, moaning at the feel of the spike still hard and buried in his valve, and he rubbed back against his lover. "Thank you." Jazz whispered, shivering.

"You are welcome," Prowl nuzzled him and depressurized his spike smoothly to retract it. "You really get off on that."

"Very much." Jazz said as he turned his helm to kiss Prowl, his entire field full of contentment. "Now what can I do for you?" He purred in question.

Prowl responded to the kiss with all the pleasure-teased arousal that was in him. "I want you between my legs, your spike filling me so perfectly."

"Mmmm." Jazz hummed, kissing Prowl again, a hand stroking down the Praxian's frame to tease over the valve cover. "I think I can do that. I love the way you feel."

Prowl shivered as his valve cover slid open, allowing a thick rush of lubricant to spill out before his hips rolled too far up into the touch. "Yessss," he moaned shamelessly.

"Ready so quickly?" Jazz asked, pleased at the response encouraged by the desire in Prowl's field. Gentle fingers probed, teasing at the soft platelets as a glossa mirrored the moves in a probing kiss. Prowl welcomed it all, shivering as the arousal burst into a searing _need_ now that an overload was on offer.

"You make me hot," Prowl gasped between kisses that were quickly stealing his ability to think.

Jazz purred at the praise, his spike pressurizing between the pair of them. It was nothing compared to Prowl's, a standard issue model. But all that mattered to Jazz was that it was enough to please Prowl. After as long as they'd shared a berth, he had no doubt that it was.

"Then let me blow your processor and take care of that need, lover," Jazz moaned as he shifted to sink into that welcoming slick heat and the exquisite valve that felt like no other when it squeezed around him, rippling the lining as bliss spread over Prowl's features.

It felt so good, and Jazz rocked slowly into the tight valve as his hands reached up to frame Prowl's face. The gentle kisses continued, working smoothly with the motion of his frame.

This was a dance, one that Jazz loved for everything that it provided them both. He had spent thousands of joors perfecting how to move, what to touch and exactly how, and now he was reaping rewards he'd never dreamed of. He had no doubt that all his efforts, his honest desire to please and pleasure the mech writhing helplessly under him in bliss, was why Prowl had gifted him with enough trust to offer Jazz his spike while sober.

It sent a thrill through Jazz to realize that Prowl _trusted_ him that much.

Prowl's grip around him tightened as his keens rose in pitch, the pleasure becoming a visible crackle of lighting along his frame.

"Yes lover." Jazz whispered, not caring a bit that Prowl was paying no attention to the words as he continued to stroke and touch, thrusting deeper and shifting a little with each motion. He could feel the response of his efforts, and it spurred him on.

"You are perfect, lover." He moaned, grabbing Prowl's hips and shifting again. "You caught me when I fell. Let go, and let me do the same."

Each slide of Jazz's spike push their charge higher by almost equal measure, but Prowl's had begun higher and he wasn't resisting the building overload in the least. The release felt so very good every time and within a klik he keened his pleasure and surrendered his last bit of control to the rushing maelstrom of energy surging through him to wipe away all traces of awareness.

Jazz keened in answer when Prowl overloaded, managing to hold on a little longer and enjoy the sight of his lover lost in so much pleasure before he surrendered himself.

This was one of the elements he loved so much about their relationship. Mutual pleasure, satisfaction. And to Jazz, the safety and stability that he needed to ground himself in, to function at his best and that soothed his spark so perfectly.

* * *

The halls of the Ark were quiet, a fact for which Jazz was very thankful. It meant less work on his part to avoid mecha. He had taken care of the unavoidable- Ratchet and his initial reports. And now all he wanted was his lover and their berth.

Tonight ... he desperately hoped that Prowl would be willing to spike him. Take him even. He needed that settlement, needed to be the subject of ownership.

The door opened to his command and the lights came up to a third. More than enough for him to clearly see everything, but not so bright that his night-level vision would be compromised. After the habitual scan of the room Jazz's focus landed on his lover. Prowl made a point of being ready for him after missions whenever he could manage. Lately, after the overcharged incident, he'd accepted that Jazz liked to be spike. It was still tense, and Prowl did a lot better when he was solidly cuffed, but it was getting better.

Right now, Jazz could see Prowl lounging on his side with an unusually playful smile and a pair of stasis cuffs dangling from one finger.

"Lover." Jazz did nothing to try and hide his relief as everything in the room settled for him and he crossed to where Prowl was, leaning in for a kiss. The kiss, and the field that enveloped Jazz, spoke of the Second in Command, a mech of great political and personal power. It was a mech, a processor set, that Prowl very rarely brought to the berth. Prowl didn't _like_ to bring him to the berth, but he did for Jazz when missions were rough.

"Who's to wear the cuffs?" Prowl rumbled, offering Jazz the option to dominate a powerful mech, or be dominated by him.

Without a word Jazz held out his hands, close enough together for Prowl to cuff him easily. In a swift move that had been practiced far too many times to have been learned for Jazz, he found himself on his back with his wrists secured above his helm to the berth. The cuffs were only lightly charged, intended to do little more than heighten the sensation of being bound.

Prowl was above him, covering his frame as he claimed a heated kiss. "You'll recharge tonight, lover."

"Want to. Need to. Please." Jazz begged between kisses. "Want you to take me."

The stress and strain of his most recent mission swirled with the need and desire in his field, clear for Prowl to feel.

"I will," he promised with a hard kiss. One hand moved between them, rubbing against both interface covers. "Open."

The command had barely left his lips before the cover gave way under his fingers. The heat of a valve spread to his hand and Jazz's hips rolled up into the touch in silent pleading. Skilled, experienced fingers teased the soft platelets and stroked around the valve rim while Prowl continued to kiss Jazz with a fierce passion that was only partially faked.

The mech under him rolled into the touch, wanting more. Wanting those fingers inside of him. Wanted to he held down and taken, even though only the first signs wetness were present.

There was conflict and confusion in Jazz's field, a testament to just how much he needed this. It had taken Prowl longer than usual to understand that connection. He'd originally taken the reaction as being uncertain of what they were doing, perhaps more a reflection of Prowl's feelings than Jazz's.

With his fingers still teasing the sensitive opening Prowl plundered his lover's mouth, mapping and remapping the space he had long ago learned to perfection. When his fingers turned up just a light coating of lubricant he withdrew them, shifting to settled back between Jazz's legs and spread them further. His spike cover finally retracted to allow the marvelously rippled and thick spike to extend and pressurize.

With steady control, Prowl shifted forward to rub the smooth underside against his lover's entrance in long, slow strokes intended to make him slick enough to take the assault that was to come.

"Yes lover. Prowl." Jazz shivered at the feel of his lover. The connections resurfacing in his processor as pleasure and location and the unique presence that was only Prowl started to come together.

This was what he needed so badly. What no one else could give. Bound hands grabbed at nothing from where they were secured at the head of the berth.

"What you need," Prowl shuddered at the need in the field against his own and rocked his hips back. "To settle you down, recharge, remember who and where you are," he groaned and thrust forward, forcing his spike into an opening just shy of too small for it.

The mech spread on the berth keened, frame arching off the berth and against Prowl's as Jazz cried his lover's designation. His valve rippled and squeezed, tightening down around the invader even as Jazz's field made it clear how welcome the sudden stretch of pain edged pleasure was.

Prowl drank in that sensation, needing it to maintain his focus so his spike remained fully pressurized as he pulled out and thrust forward again and again, driving Jazz to one screaming, processor-whiting overload after another until the mech collapsed from the final one, completely spent and unable to rouse himself from the pending shutdown into much-needed recharge.

* * *

Jazz booted feeling much better. Centered, grounded, steady. He still grieved for the agent he couldn't reach, an agent that had deactivated on a mission that produced no intel and had nearly cost Jazz his own existence, but he could function again.

"Do you need more?" Prowl's drowsy voice asked near Jazz's audial.

"No, thank you love." Jazz mumbled, still getting his processor back in working order as he rolled over to snuggle against his lover and claim a gentle kiss. "Would you like some?"

"I'd rather talk," Prowl teeked of uneasiness even as he returned the gentle kiss with warmth. "I need to understand ... this."

"This?" Jazz repeated, coming more to himself with each second and tilting his helm to look into Prowl's optics. A hand reached out to stroke over a doorwing, soothing instead of arousing. "What is there to understand?"

"Why you need to be dominated. Why you need _my_ spike. Why the pain helps you." Prowl rattled off the top of his list.

Jazz contemplated that all, thinking his answers through carefully before he started to reply. Careful wording was critical with such a delicate subject.

"It makes me feel good, safe. Because I trust you. _You_ are safe. The spike is only yours. Only you take me like that." It wasn't a terribly coherent answer, but it was the truth.

"The pain...it's mostly just a side effect." He admitted. "I don't necessarily need or want it, but it's part of being with you, so it is good. You aren't really hurting me."

Prowl mulled that all over for a long time, his frame almost dozing off while his processors worked over it. It wasn't really new information, but like anything that didn't settle well with him, he continued to ask for it to be repeated in different ways, in whole or in part, until it stuck well enough to be accepted. This contest was simple from the outside. Prowl's past, experiences from the early Golden Age, vs. his present, the mech in his arms who had been very clear about what he wanted, needed and liked.

It shouldn't have been difficult, but Prowl had spent a very long lifetime with a set way of doing things and he found it far more difficult that was reasonable to change that. It didn't seem to matter what evidence he had, his interface protocols simply refused the update.

"So you would respond the same if I had a standard issue spike?" Prowl asked carefully.

"Once I had it associated with you with my processor, yes." Jazz said. "I would adjust. Though I like yours very much."

Prowl gave him a gentle kiss. "I wasn't thinking of changing it. I wanted to know if it was the spike or the owner. I ... want to be here for you, be what you need, without being so stressed about it." He kissed his lover again. "Some orn, perhaps to even enjoy it again."

That made Jazz stop, going still where he was pressed against Prowl, field dropping into neutrality. "It is the owner." He finally forced himself to admit. "But an owner that I don't want to hurt." He added softly, nuzzling Prowl.

"You are not hurting me," Prowl said firmly. "It is ancient, unhelpful code that I should have purged long ago. It simply does not wish to be purged."

"Are you going to be able to enjoy it?" Jazz sighed. "I want to be with you. I want you to be happy. It helps. And everything that you do for me."

"In time," Prowl murmured. "You're helping that, reinforcing that the code is outdating. Change is always stressful for me. That doesn't make it bad."

Jazz shifted, trying to sort through that. "So, what do you want?"

A tiny grin crooked the edge of Prowl's lip plates. "I would like to be free to enjoy what we do without the hindrance of old coding. To enjoy using one's spike while sober is not an unreasonable expectation."

* * *

Jazz actually found himself relaxing as he studied the board and tried to settle on his next move. The solid form set of Sovereign was a treasure that Jazz had found on one of his excursions to Cybertron. He had no idea that it had been a set worth more than a lifetime of his pay even now, but Prowl had known just at a glance.

He had yet to forget the expression on Prowl's face when he had presented his lover with the set. It was better than any overload face he made, and some of those were exquisite. Prowl loved Sovereign and treasured physical objects in a way very few survivors did. Most took the lesson from war not to form attachments. Prowl took the lesson and valued the few things he had all the more.

That this item truly qualified as a treasure, even Mirage recognized it as _valuable_ among noble circles, just made it all the sweeter. Though Jazz had no doubt that Prowl would have responded much the same and valued it just as much had it been a fairly worthless mass-produced set and not something that came from a royal's home.

"Victory in three," Prowl announced as he made his move.

"I'm getting a little better then." Jazz commented with a smile as he reached out and took a sip from his cube of energon. "I used to barely get five moves in on you."

Not that Jazz believed that he would ever have a chance of winning against Prowl. There was a reason that the mech was the CTO of the forces here on earth, and commonly acknowledged as the best tactician among the Autobot forces.

At least here, winning was not what mattered. The real reward was the time that he got to spend with his lover, and the pleasure that he could see Prowl drew from this time. Jazz was good enough to be an entertaining opponent.

"You have always been a quick learner," Prowl commented absently, though Jazz heard the warmth in the subtle sub-harmonics. "You have also improved the use of your unique chaos effect."

"I have to use every trick I've got just to try and keep up with you lover." Jazz laughed, his field full of warm affection that reached out to brush against Prowl as he gently moved another piece.

He had a rather good idea of the route that Prowl was going to take to beat him now, so it was simply a matter of playing into the other's hands.

"You do impressively well, given you are not a tactical model," Prowl almost purred as he closed the trap and crushed Jazz's remaining defense to capture his High Lord. "Few enjoy playing when they have such little chance of winning."

"I get to watch a master in action." Jazz responded as he surrendered his High Lord to Prowl with all of the ceremonial flare worthy of a formal match. It had been fun, and his own little surprise, when he had not only looked up the rules of the ancient game, but had researched all of the traditions and procedures for everything from friendly matches to full tournament protocol. He'd been delighted to realize just how much Prowl felt honored by his effort and responded in kind.

"To the victor goes the spoils," Prowl purred, his field caressing Jazz's with unmistakable desire.

"Then I surrender myself to the victor." Jazz said as he rose gracefully from his seat to circle behind Prowl, caressing the regal doorwings as he leaned down to kiss his lover. "What do you desire of me?"

Prowl's hand came up to capture Jazz's helm and hold him in the kiss as he stood to draw his lover against him. "To have you against the wall," he rumbled as he stepped Jazz back towards the wall.

"Any way you want me." Jazz agreed, field and frame quivering with anticipation as he dove in to claim another kiss as his back met the wall. Prowl dominated the kiss and reached down to catch Jazz's knee and pull it up to his hip as he ground their interface arrays together. Jazz moved with the motion, eager and slightly questioning, feeling out his lover. Prowl had never initiated something like this, though he'd had an easier time over the vorns when Jazz needed it.

"Open," Prowl rumbled, demanding and already running hot.

"You want this?" Jazz asked, holding off for a klik as he reached up to touch his lover's face, hope bright in his field. The progress they had made had been wonderful, building on the trust and desire that had held them together through every trial that the war had thrown at them so far.

"Yes," Prowl claimed Jazz's mouth for a long, demanding kiss that left Jazz moaning. "I want to feel this again, and remember how good it is."

"Then take me." Jazz purred, full of joy as his valve cover snapped away, hot and ready for the mech pinning him to the wall. "Make new memories with me."

Prowl shivered at the sound and the desire before shifting his grip and frame to press the sloped tip of his spike against the valve's sensor-rich entrance, settling in his processor where everything was. Without any further warning he drove his hips up and forward, impaling his lover in a single thrust all the way past the half-pressurized bulbs at the base to rub housing against valve entrance.

The action drew the same reaction for Jazz every time Prowl indulged him. A keen of pleasure, his field flaring out in a burst to wash over his lover of what this did to Jazz, the claiming and domination. The sense of belonging, of having stable ground under him, everything that Prowl did simply by being who he was.

But this was even a little different. Jazz didn't _need_ it this time. But he wanted it. Wanted to be with Prowl, claimed and owned and possessed because the other mech wanted it to.

It felt amazingly good to be filled so completely when he wasn't desperate for it. This time Jazz could feel every stroke, feel the shifting of pressurization in response to his valve, the way the rounded, too-large base was designed to stimulate a love's platelets and rim.

More than even that, Jazz could feel the intensity rolling off Prowl in waves. He wasn't completely comfortable yet, but there was no doubting that he was enjoying himself and relishing the sensations in each thrust.

"Yes." Jazz gasped, hands resting on Prowl's shoulders to brace himself and focus on what was happening. The stretch and slide of the spike in his valve. Working his valve around that spike to catch and grab it at just the right moments.

He was still learning the feel of his lover's spike and how to pleasure Prowl most, but he was also enjoying every moment he got. He felt the first crackle of charge zap between spike and valve when Prowl grunted with a thrust. The Praxian's grip tightened as he leaned into it more. Optics off, mouth slightly open, doorwings spread and his full focus on the exquisite sensations pouring in from his spike along with the intensity of pleasure rolling off Jazz.

Jazz was captivated by the image before him, the regal presence of his lover and the intense pleasure from Prowl. "Lover. My lover." Jazz moaned.

Prowl reply came with a harder, deeper thrust and resonant moan as he picked up the pace. He willingly lost himself in the pleasure and long-ago familiar movements that had brought more than one mecha to scream his designation and stay the night to have more in the morning. It had been a long time since he'd been so active a lover fully on his own, and it felt _good_.

"Mine," Prowl moaned as his hips jerked, driving into his lover with a building need that was purely physical heightened by affection.

"Yes, yes." Jazz cried, falling into each movement and squeezing around the spike. "Take me. Use me. Mark me as yours."

Prowl didn't have the focus left to reply. He could only thrust until the charge tore a roar from his vocalizer and engine with the first burst of transfluid that ejected into Jazz's valve to splash and stick to the nodes at the roof, expelling their charge directly into his neural net.

Jazz held out for few more seconds, reveling in the new and wonderful feeling of having Prowl willing and involved in this before he surrendered himself to the bliss washing up from his valve. He had no doubt this was the most intense, exquisite, wonderful overload he'd ever felt and as long as Prowl had enjoyed it too, there would be better to come as they learned each other in this way.

Gradually Prowl relaxed against Jazz, still pinning him to the wall. "Enjoy?" He murmured when he was coherent enough to speak.

"So very much." Jazz purred, valve rippling around the thick spike in appreciation as he nuzzled Prowl. "And it felt like this time...you did too."

"Yes," he purred, somewhat amazed by it. "I did. Berth? I'd still like to feel your spike tonight."

"Lead the way, lover." Jazz smiled, eager. "And I will please you until neither of us want to move."

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers G1  
> Author: gatekat, starsheild on LJ  
> Pairings: Jazz/Prowl  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Codes: Sticky  
> Summary: Prowl doesn't do parties. He doesn't do high grade. So when it happens most mecha are surprised that he's still pretty mellow. Right up to the point he decides he hasn't gotten laid recently enough.  
> Disclaimer: Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html>. We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read. 
> 
> Prowl's spike inspiration: <http://www.furaffinity.net/view/9659533/> (NSFW, account required)
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter
> 
> From <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=13432576#t13432576>
> 
> Everyone knows how Prowl isn't the biggest fan of parties. Actually, the real reason is because of the high-grade, because he gets easily overcharged. And when he's overcharged, he can't control himself and his urges.
> 
> So, the main story: Prowl is in a relationship (bondmates, lovers, friends with benefits - whatever anon feels like) and their interfacing life in normal, vanilla even and most of the time Prowl is the one getting spiked. Until one orn he gets overcharged (again, for whatever reasons anon finds interesting) and he and his lover end up interfacing. However, said lover discovers an entirely different side to overcharges!Prowl. Because when he's drunk, Prowl's much more rough and becomes a spike mech - he knows what he wants and knows how to get it.
> 
> His lover is very much surprised by this fact but doesn't mind. It's rougher then he's used to but he discovered that he actually likes it!
> 
> The next morning Prowl is very upset/worried by the fact that he got overcharged and interfaced with his lover, because he knows he can be more 'aggressive'. After his lover convinces him that yes, he is fine, and no, Prowl didn't hurt him, they return to their normal interfacing.
> 
> Only, said lover now start craving for that aggressive side of Prowl....
> 
> Preferred method of interfacing is sticky. Anon can play with whatever kinks they like! :D  
> About the lover...hmmm, I'm a hardcore prowl/jazz, but if anon likes other mechs, feel free to use them! :D


End file.
